


from here to eternity

by greatduwangs



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Azula (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Zuko (Avatar), Protective Zuko (Avatar), Short Chapters, ghost!azula
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25281142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatduwangs/pseuds/greatduwangs
Summary: They find her body at dawn.They hold the funeral at dusk.He sees her at midnight.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 151





	1. Chapter 1

They find her body at dawn.

It is a servant who finds her first. Not a member of her family, not her father, not her mother, and _especially_ not her brother. The servant merely goes into the princess’ room for her early morning routine, and runs out with her hands covered in blood and ugly tears streaming down their face.

Zuko sits at the dining table with his mother and father when the servant bursts in, panting and sweating and looking far too frightened for his liking. He looks away from his conversation with his mother and stares at the servant with concern. It’s only when he takes a good look that he notices the blood smeared on their hands. 

Dread fills his heart as his parents stand up.

_There’s been an attack._

He tries not to cry – not yet. There’s still a chance she’s alive, after all. She wouldn’t just up and _die_ like that.

_Princess Azula has –_

Lies. Lies lies lies.

He vaguely registers his father saying something in a dangerously low voice, and his mother brushing past him to leave the dining hall in a hurry. Zuko stays still, the world stays still, as dawn brings with it sorrow. It is only when his father calls his voice, and for the first time looks at him with something _other_ than disappointment, that he returns to his senses. The two stare at each other, amber eyes upon amber. Ozai nods, and Zuko sprints to his sister’s room.

As he approaches her room, he hears a pathetic wailing coming closer and closer towards him. It takes him arriving at the doors to Azula’s chambers that he realises what it is.

His mother kneels in Azula’s room, cradling something in her arms, shaking violently as tears rack her body. Servants rush around her, unsure of what to do, while others take notice of him and try to urge him out. None of them are successful. None of them understand.

He wills his body to move forward, every step feeling as if he has iron in his boots. His mother doesn’t notice him, or at least doesn’t give any indication that she has. As he steps closer and closer, a putrid smell rises to his nostrils, one that he ignores. Finally, he’s close enough to see.

Zuko falls.

He’s falling forever through an abyss, his world crumbling around him, all of his family and all of the servants fading into nothing as all that remains is himself and the body of his little sister. She’s deathly pale, blood oozing out of a wound in her chest, and eyes still open in shock. Her face is contorted into one of terror and anguish, forever frozen in that moment. His mother holds her closer, kneeling over her body and screaming out in grief. And he stays silent.

It’s only when he feels a hand – warm, but not in the way his mother’s is – that he looks up, and notices his father standing behind him. He watches as Ozai approaches his mother, and, in a moment of rare tenderness, places his hand on top of her own. She shoots her head up, eyes blood-shot and puffy, while Ozai hardens his jaw.

“It’s too late,” he says, and Zuko has never heard such sorrow in his father’s voice. “We were too late.”

The family stands still now, not daring to utter a word or break the silence. Zuko feels sick to his stomach, and he would throw up if not for the disrespect it would show his sister. Instead, he stands, and places his hand on his mother’s shoulder. Her gaze moves from Ozai to him.

“Come on, mum,” he says, his voice not shaking like he expects, “we have to get you cleaned up.”

His mother’s lower lip trembles. “My baby…” she whimpers.

“I know, mum.”

He leads her outside the bedroom, passing by his father on the way. Ozai stares down at him, and he looks back. There’s a moment of silence between the two, a mutual kind of understanding of how to deal with the tragedy that has come to pass. Ozai would deal with his – with the body. And Zuko will comfort his mother.

Never has he been the one to comfort his mother. She was always the one there for him, when his pet turtle-duck had passed (burnt by _Azula_ ), when he was singed (by _Azula_ ), when his favourite bundle of flowers, a present from his mother, went up in flames (by _Azula Azula Azula_ ). But now Ursa was far too shaken to comfort him, and Ozai expects him to be _a man_ , a strong man not just for his mother’s sake but for _hers_ too, and so Zuko leads their mother to the gardens.

It’s the first place that comes to his mind – or perhaps he just moves instinctively. The orange sky seems much more threatening now. One more hue and it could be the shade of red. He shakes his head, forcing the thoughts and the images out of his head, and takes Ursa to a tree by the pond. He sits her down against the trunk, and splashes water on his own face. His reflection in the water is muddled and hazy.

The turtle-ducks swim up to him, expecting bread or some sort of attention, he’s sure. He sighs.

Mother and son sit in silence, swallowing in the tragedy that had befallen them.

They hold the funeral at dusk.

Firelord Azulon doesn’t make an appearance – he’s much too sickly to come out in public – so Ozai acts in his place. Zuko’s father doesn’t shed a tear when he walks up to the pyre, the whole nation wearing white in honour of their fallen princess, nor does he shake when lighting the body. Zuko’s mother is wrecked with tears and grief when she approaches the pyre, and her shaking hands almost drop the torch. She doesn’t, though, and she returns back to Ozai’s side, still standing strong despite looking as if she would collapse at any moment.

Finally, it’s his turn. Zuko walks up to the pyre, head held high and torch raised even higher, trying his best to look as strong as he could in front of the nation, in front of his family, in front of _her_. The stench of burning flesh drifts closer and closer the more he moves, and by the time he’s in front of the grave he feels like throwing up. He doesn’t.

He drops the torch in with the rest and mutters a prayer to Agni underneath his breath. He doesn’t dare look at the body of his sister, now surely blackened and ectoplasm melted. 

Walking back to his parents, he feels the nation’s eyes on him. He, the last remaining royal of his generation, the rest wiped out within a week. He carries on a legacy of two prodigies, both gone from this world far too soon.

As he stares out to the nation, gazing at the distance, he feels his father’s hand on his shoulder, and registers his mother standing beside him. He’s numb, and cold. Not even the warmth of a firebender could heat him up. 

The priest stands before them all, bowing to Ozai and Ursa and himself, before he turns his attention to the burning pyre and raises his arms up high.

“We bless Agni with her presence,” he declares. “A tragedy that has shaken our nation to its very core. May the spirits guide her to the next life, and may her own spirit rest at ease.”

Zuko clenches his jaw.

He sees her at midnight.

It’s impossible not to see her now, not when everything everywhere reminds him of her. The scorch marks on the walls, the silence in the servants’, the weeping from his mother’s study, Azula left her mark on the world. But this is different.

Zuko sits in his bed, rubbing his eyes and gaping at his doorway dumbly.

“Miss me, dum-dum?” Azula smirks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a conversation in the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so expect chapters to be updated frequently but rather short because I do not have the time nor the energy to write 4k chapters for a fic like this.

Her words echo in his head, and he’s not sure if she’s real. She seems almost translucent in the moonlight, still wearing the clothes he saw her in yesterday, still with that same old _smirk_ that she always wore. She’s leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed and eyeing him down. He crawls to the end of his bed, mouth agape. It’s impossible, he thinks to himself. 

Yet here she stands before him.

She rolls her eyes, calls him an idiot, and he almost bursts into tears. Almost.

“H-how?” He doesn’t dare raise his voice above a whisper. “But you were – I – your body –”

“Honestly, Zuzu, you haven’t figured it out already?” she says. “It took me just a second to work it out. Less than, even.”

He ignores her attempt at superiority, because it’s _Azula_ , and he welcomes the arrogancy with open arms. Zuko jumps from his bed, runs to his sister, and stops just before her. There’s a moment of tranquillity between the two, a silence that runs through the whole palace. She pushes herself from the wall and faces him, her expression twisting to one of confusion and sorrow. It takes him a second to register the fact that his sister is crying.

Zuko reaches out with his hand, intending to wipe away her tear from her cheek with his thumb, but his hand passes right through her. Disappointment rushes through him; not that he expects anything else. People seeing spirits was unheard of, and the spirit realm never interacts with the human realm. So he stands and watches as his sister’s transparent body is wrecked with sobs, unsure of what to do or how to comfort her. She falls to her knees, wiping away snot and tears, a sore sight for a princess. 

He coughs.

She stands up.

“Don’t tell anyone about that,” she says, her voice threatening and still quivering. 

“I don’t think anyone would believe me.” As far as he knows, they would just call him crazy and send him to a psychiatric ward, like some kind of mad prince. It isn’t exactly on his agenda to be declared insane, even if he might be – in fact, he’s pretty sure he is. After all, it isn’t normal to see your dead sister appear before you as a spirit.

She flashes him a grin. “You’re right.”

Azula climbs up to his bed and begins to jump, seemly over her little breakdown from before. The bed doesn’t make a sound or any indication that she’s bouncing. Zuko’s gaze follows her as she performs tricks on his bed.

“How are the parents, by the way?” she asks, as if she isn’t dead. “I expect father misses me. Mother’s probably glad I’m gone.”

He thinks back to the scene in her bedroom and swallows. “She loves you.”

She stops, and looks at him. “Past tense, Zuzu, past tense.”

It unnerves him how used she is to being dead. “She loved you,” he corrected himself. He joins her on the bed, sitting against his bedframe while she sits cross-legged on the end. “She was broken when she found you.”

Azula says nothing to this.

“And I think dad’s trying to be strong, for our sake. But he misses you too,” Zuko continues. He thinks back to his father, and how today was a day of many firsts for Ozai – at least, as far as he can tell. He’s never seen his father so… imperfect.

Azula drops her head at the mention of their father, staring at her feet. Zuko looks at her with concern. Even if she is just a figment of his imagination, she’s still his sister.

“Azula…”

“What about you?” she says. Her head suddenly shoots up. “How are you handling all of… this?”

He closes his mouth, stroking his chin in deep thought. “Well, considering I’m seeing my dead sister on my bed, I’d say I’m handling things pretty well,” he jokes.

She laughs, and he’s glad because he never thought he would hear that sound again. At some point he joins in, giggling, and he feels closer to his sister in death than they ever were in life. But throughout their conversation, one thing sticks out in his head, a burning question that only she could answer.

“So how did it happen?”

Her laughs slows down. “How did what happen?”

“How did you die?”

It stops completely. And her voice – oh, her voice – is a broken little girl’s. Because, Zuko realises, that’s what she is.

“I don’t remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? What did you think? Please leave a comment below!! Even just a simple "nice" is good!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

He doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but he wakes up at the crack of dawn, groggy and tired, to his sister staring at him from her place on the armchair. She’s sitting abnormally, as she always does – her feet hanging over the edge of the back of the chair, upside down and staring at him with wide eyes. There’s a moment of silence, as Zuko processes the sight before him, processes _yesterday_ in general. He rubs his eyes.

“Morning, Zuzu,” Azula says.

It’s so strange. He almost forgets how to talk. “Hey… Azula.” He averts his gaze from her, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He quickly puts on his day clothes, careful to stay out of her line of sight. “Have you been staring at me all this time?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“You could have woken me up. I would’ve given you my bed –”

Azula shakes her head. “I mean, it’s impossible for me to sleep now. I think it’s cause I’m dead.” She stretches out her arms. “On the bright side, having no blood means I can stay upside down for as long as I want.”

It unnerves him, to say the least, how used she is to being dead already. If it were him he would still be convinced he was alive. But it’s not him, he thinks with a grim reminder, and he has a duty now to give his sister companionship. It’s the only thing they have left now.

He gets up from his bed, walks over to his sister, and hovers his hand over hers. They cannot touch, but he tries his best to reassure her.

“I hope you weren’t too bored,” he says. “If I had known, I would have gotten a book, or something…”

Azula pulls her legs back from their upside-down position and sits up straight. She stares at him for a moment, as if looking for words to say, before she pushes herself from the bed and walks straight through him. “Spare me, Zuzu. Like a book could relieve my boredom.” She turns and smirks. “I, unlike you, used my time to practice my katas.”

His eye twitches. “Like that would be any use now,” he spits. Even now, he feels inferior to her.

Even now, she wants to be the prodigy.

It takes him a moment to realise what he said, and apologies begin to sputter out of his lips as soon as he does. Azula stands silently, listening to what he says. When he finishes, she twists her fingers in her hands, looking at the floor.

“I know,” she says. “I know it’s useless.”

A transparent tear falls to the floor.

“But I don’t know – it makes me feel alive, somehow.”

He looks at her with concern, and reaches out for her, but his fingers pass right through her again. Instead, he swallows, and cracks a smile. It’s incredibly forced, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

“I understand. Hey, maybe you could teach me some,” he suggests. “I’d be honoured to learn from you.”

Pressing his fist against his palm, he bows, a sign of respect for a fellow firebender. She stares at him.

“It’s not like I have anything better do to,” she says.

He’s about to grin, and shower his sister with ‘thank you’s, when his door opens, and his father stands before him. Ozai casts a large shadow in his room, and Zuko realises it’s the first time his father has ever visited him in the mornings. Remembering his manners, he bows to his father, sweating ever so slightly.

Ozai raises his hand, and Zuko rises.

“I understand you may be overstricken with grief,” Ozai says. It’s uncharacteristic of his father to act so… understanding. 

Zuko shakes his head. “I’m not –”

After all, his sister stands right beside him. But could Ozai see her?

He glances to Azula, who stares down at her shoes, before his gaze returns to his father. Ozai looks almost impressed with him.

“Perhaps you deny it, or perhaps you’re stronger than I suspected.” It’s the closest thing to a compliment he’s ever gotten from his father. “Come.”

Ozai turns and almost glides away from his room. Confused, Zuko follows him, his sister trailing behind. She’s silent, for once. Perhaps the presence of their father – their father who cannot see her – has silenced her. She always was father’s favourite.

They arrive at the dining table, breakfast served out already. The smell of fish and rice and soy beans waft to his nose, and he almost forgets the smell of burning flesh from yesterday. Almost.

He sits down at his usual seat, next to his mother’s chair – which is empty. 

“Sit here, Zuko,” his father commands. Ozai is gesturing towards the seat next to him. Azula’s seat.

Zuko swallows, taking a brief look at Azula, who stands behind their father. Her lower lip is trembling, and she looks as if she will burst into tears at any moment. Zuko almost – _almost_ – reassures her, before logic gets the better of him and he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he turns to his father.

“I can’t. I’d feel… bad about taking her seat now.”

It’s where Azula is meant to be.

“Sit, Zuko.” It’s an order.

Behind Ozai, Azula says, “just take it, dum-dum.”

Zuko moves from his usual seat to her seat, and, for the first time since Azula showed her first flames, sat next to his father. He’s always dreamt of this, but now that it’s happening he just feels sick to his stomach. Azula doesn’t say anything, and sits cross-legged on his opposite side, her body passing halfway through the table.

They begin to eat their meal in silence. Zuko feels his father’s eyes burn into the side of his head, but he doesn’t say anything.

It’s only at the end of the meal, when servants begin to take away their bowls, that Ozai finally speaks.

“You’ll be practicing your katas today,” he says. “I’ll be there to observe you.”

Zuko swallows.

His father never attends his firebending training. As far as he knew, he only ever attended Azula’s. He glances at his sister, who is staring at their father with her mouth agape. She seems to notice his eyes on her, however, as she shuts her mouth and tells him, “Lucky you.”

_She was born lucky. You were lucky to be born._

“Of course, father,” Zuko says, bowing his head. “I will do my best for you.”

Ozai says nothing to that.

Later that morning, the three of them – plus a sifu – are standing outside in the courtyard, the sun beating down on their backs. He hasn’t seen his mother all day, but yet his father hovers over him constantly. Conversation is minimal, and it is the most Ozai has ever spent with his son since his early years. Azula makes snide remarks here and there, which Zuko is grateful for. He’s just grateful he can hear her, when he thought he’d never hear her again.

The sifu tells him to move into the crane position. He does so, and his father’s brows narrow.

“Put your legs wider apart,” Azula says. “And relax your shoulders. You’re far too stiff.”

He does so, and his father’s eyes return to normal. He assumes that’s a good thing.

“Demonstrate what you’ve learnt to me,” Ozai orders.

Everything is fine, at first – not as perfect nor as powerful as Azula’s was, but it’s passable. But when moving to one kata, he trips on his own feet and falls down, landing on the grass with a thud. He dreads looking up at his father, and he can hear Azula sighing behind him.

Still, he looks up anyway, fearing what his father’s expression would be.

It’s completely blank.

Zuko almost apologises and asks to do the katas again, before his father’s next words shook him to his very core.

“Agni took the wrong child.”

Ozai turns and glides away from the courtyard, not bothering to look back at his pathetic failure of a son. The sifu tries to comfort Zuko, saying words that don’t register in his head. And Azula looks as if she doesn’t know whether to laugh or to look sympathetic.

Meanwhile, Zuko lies on the grass, repeating the words in his head.

 _Agni took the wrong child_.

 _Agni took the wrong child_.

 _Agni took the wrong child_.

And his father was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the positive feedback so far! I'm so thankful for it <33
> 
> If you want, check me out on twitter! @ tyzulation


	4. Chapter 4

“Leave me alone!” he yells, and it’s a message to both Azula and the firebending master.

The sifu bows and leaves immediately, and Azula stays and watches him.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said leave me alone!” he says. The sifu glances back at him, bows again, and leaves even faster. Zuko curls into himself, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face in them, while his sister searches for something to say.

“I’m sorry, Zuko-”

“No you’re not,” he spits, heart bitter and hands cold. “You’re loving this. Even when you’re dead, Dad still likes you more.”

She reaches out to touch his head, but her hand passes right through him. Instead, she stands tall, sneering down upon him. “Fine. Go ahead and wallow in your own misery. See if I care.” She clenches her fists so tightly her nails dig into her skin. “You’re not the one who’s _dead_ , Zuzu.”

And she storms off into the palace without a second glance behind her, leaving her dear brother alone with his thoughts. Zuko stays still, for the time being, as he thinks to what his sister said.

 _Azula was born lucky_.

Rotten luck that turned out to be. 

_You were lucky to be born_.

He knows that, already. That his luck ran out the moment he was born. He is a failure of a firebender, of a prince, of a _son_.

And now he is a failure of a brother.

Zuko lays down in the grass, staring at the sky with a frown. The clouds continue to drift by, as if nothing was wrong. The world continues to turn.

 _Agni took the wrong child_.

He wonders if Ozai would say the same to Azula had he been the one to die. Surely not. Surely Azula would go on to be the favourite child, as she always was, and he would fall into obscurity as the prince who fell too soon. Perhaps his mother and uncle would mourn him, but not father – not while he is a failure. Zuko raises his arm and covers his eyes, shielding them from the sun. 

He doesn’t know how long he spent laying there, feeling the sun burn down onto his skin, but by the time he finally sits up it’s mid-afternoon, and the halls of the courtyard are empty of life. Zuko swallows, standing up, and rubs his eyes. It takes him a moment to realise that he’s tearing up.

Rubbing his eyes harder now, he glances around him, as if expecting his sister to be nearby. She isn’t, though. And he can’t exactly call out for her now.

He searches the palace high and low for her, dismissing servants who would ask him what he’s doing by saying he’s wandering around. It’s only when he comes across the first place he should have checked that he sees her.

She’s leaning against the wall next to her bedroom door, her knees to her chest and her head buried in her knees – very much the same pose he had been in before. Zuko almost expects her to be crying (strange, he’s seen her tear up more times in the past day than she ever did when she was alive), but she’s not. Instead, dark circles form underneath them, and when her head rises up to meet with Zuko’s, she looks much older than she really is.

It’s only when he arrives by her side that he realises what the issue is. Inside Azula’s bedroom, there’s someone sobbing. A familiar, angelic voice.

“Mother,” he breathes quietly.

Azula exhales, staring at the distance. “She would never do this for me if I were alive.”

“That’s not true,” he whispers, kneeling down before her. She shakes her head. “Mum loved you.”

She snorts. “She thought I was a monster.”

But afterwards, she remains silent, glancing over occasionally to the door. Zuko holds out his hand, and even though she can’t hold onto it, the sentiment is appreciated. Azula stands, and, with a brave breath, Zuko knocks on the door.

Nothing. Then, the door opens, and his mother greets him.

He’s never seen her look so dishevelled before. Dark circles underneath her eyes, her nails clipped unevenly, her hair a mess, and her skin pale and ashen. It takes Ursa a moment to register her son in front of her, and, not to his surprise, doesn’t seem to notice Azula. Azula, on the other hand, bites her lower lip down hard. She doesn’t bleed, but Zuko imagines that she would if she weren’t a spirit.

Ursa doesn’t even attempt to smile. “Hello, dear,” she says. “Have you come to pay your respects too?”

He feels Azula’s stare piercing into his head.

“Yes,” he answers, standing up straight. “I wanted to say hi to my sister.”

Ursa leads him into the room. Already the servants have cleaned up the place, and replaced Azula’s bloodied bed with a shrine dedicated to the princess. Her portrait sits in front of incense and offerings. Azula steps past her family and stares at the picture.

Meanwhile, Ursa sits down, praying to the shrine. Azula’s gaze drifts from the portrait to her mother.

“Azula,” Ursa says.

Azula swallows.

“No matter what the path you took in life, I was always proud of you. I would always be proud of you.”

“Liar,” says Azula.

“You were a strong and brave warrior. I love you.” Her voice cracks. “I only wish – I could have told you that – while you were here.”

“LIAR!” Azula screams. “You think I’m a monster!”

Ursa’s body is wrecked with sobs, and she silently moves aside so Zuko can say his prayers. His eyes pass over Azula’s as he does. She looks distraught, almost as much as their mother, and suddenly everything clicks. The years of teasing, of bullying, of being a prodigy, of being _perfect_ – it was all for Ursa’s attention.

Zuko kneels down in front of the portrait. “Azula,” he begins.

Azula stops heaving and looks at him, almost interested in what he has to say.

“…You were annoying, and you burnt my hair a lot,” he says. “I think you had a grudge against it, or something.”

He hears a stifled giggle from behind him, and continues.

“I was always jealous of you, because I didn’t understand. But I think I do now.” He pauses, and listens for a reaction. Nothing. He takes it as a queue to continue. “Sorry I didn’t realise it before. I’m dumb, sometimes, as you can tell.”

“Ha! Of course you are,” Azula says.

“Just know that I will always be here for you. I will carry on your legacy, and I will make sure no one forgets you. ‘Cause that’s who I am – the best big brother in the world.” He grins. “Also, I know it was you who stole my fire ferret plush when I was five, and you better tell me where it is before I come into the spirit realm myself.”

“I think I burnt it,” says Azula, at the same time that Ursa snaps, “Zuko! Show some more respect!”

Zuko’s grin falters, and he bows slightly. “Sorry, mum.”

His mother returns to praying, and he leaves the room, Azula trailing behind him.

“That was a lame excuse of a prayer,” Azula yawns.

Zuko can’t stop the smile that spreads his lips. “Shut up, you brat.”

She grins back. “Make me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh shit 2 chapters a day!! writing this cause I don't have a muse for my other fics atm and I really wanted to get this chapter out. Next chapter will be up.... maybe tomorrow, maybe this weekend, maybe next week. Who knows.
> 
> In the meantime, please leave a comment if you liked!


	5. Chapter 5

Ty Lee and Mai visit for the last time.

The fact remains unspoken within them, but they’re all well aware. Now that Azula is gone, there’s no reason for them to be invited to the palace anymore. Zuko certainly isn’t supposed to be fraternising with them – he is meant to focus on training, which he has fallen behind on.

But, just this once, they’re allowed into the palace for one last visit, to pay respects to their dearly departed friend.

When Ty Lee arrives at the palace, she’s a sobbing mess. She throws her arms around Zuko and he almost stumbles back. Almost. She cries out some incoherent words through pathetic wails, not knowing that Azula stares at her all the while. It’s only when Ty Lee stops to catch her breath that Azula finally sneaks in a side comment.

“Well, I do appreciate the sentiment,” she says, sneering. “But this is a bit too much, don’t you agree?”

“I miss her so much!” wails Ty Lee, unaware of Azula’s spirit.

Zuko shoots a glare to Azula. “I’m sure she misses you too, wherever she is.”

Azula sticks her tongue out at him, but ultimately she softens, and sits on the hallway railing swinging her legs back and forth. They’re out in the courtyard, by the fountain, where Azula usually played with them before. Except this time there’s no playing. This time it’s a sombre moment.

Mai is a much different story.

She’s not sobbing, nor is she distraught. True, there are bags under her eyes, and she looks paler than usual, and according to Ty Lee her aura is greyer than usual, but she’s not a visible mess like Ty Lee is. This seems to please Azula.

“See, Zuzu? This is how you should handle death,” Azula remarks. “Not cry like a baby.”

“I haven’t cried,” he says, and it takes him a moment to realise that Ty Lee and Mai are still in the courtyard. He stutters over his words before settling on an excuse. “I – I mean I haven’t cried over her yet. No matter what, the tears won’t come.” He looks down. “I must be an awful big brother.”

Ty Lee showers him with reassurance, and Mai tells him a simple, “no”. Azula looks almost impressed. 

“I didn’t know you could lie, Zuzu.”

Ignoring the back-handed insult, Zuko smiles at his guests and scratches the back of his neck. “You’re right. We all grieve in our own way,” he says. “Besides, I don’t think Azula would approve of this.”

Standing up straight and sniffling, Ty Lee wipes the last of her tears onto her sleeve and nods. A proud expression washes over Azula’s face for a moment. Just a brief moment. But it’s enough to let Zuko know she’s still human.

“How are your parents?” Mai asks. 

Zuko sighs. “Dad’s strong. He’s not letting it get to his head.” His gaze drifts to the hallways leading to Azula’s old room. “Mum is a different story.”

“Is she okay?” Ty Lee frowns. “Your mum is nice.”

He shakes his head. He can’t remember the last time he saw his mother eat, or heard that she had bathed. Ozai informed him that she did, albeit with a little help from the servants. Still, he feels deep concern for his mother. It’s almost as if he lost three members of his family in the past fortnight, and not just two. 

He expresses his concerns to his – Azula’s friends, and they furrow their brows in sympathy.

“I’m so sorry, Zuko,” says Mai. It’s the most consolation he ever expected from her. 

Ty Lee suggests they visit Azula’s room to say their final prayers. It’s what they came here for, after all, and, according to Ty Lee, Azula must be getting bored of waiting. She’s not, of course – Zuko has a feeling she wants them to stay for as long as possible, wants to _talk_ to them, but they both know that is impossible. Instead, they lead the pair to Azula’s room in silence.

Ursa is there, as usual. Zuko remembers the last time he saw his mother outside this room was at the funeral. He glances to his sister in mutual concern before coughing and announcing his presence. His mother doesn’t respond.

“Mum… Mum, Ty Lee and Mai are here. Azula’s friends, remember?” he says, approaching her. He rubs her back for good measure.

His mother looks up, having noticed him for the first time, and glances behind her shoulder to Mai and Ty Lee. She offers up a weak smile and stands up. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking to myself…”

“It’s okay, mum,” says Zuko.

Ursa looks at Ty Lee and swallows. “Did Azula ever… say anything about me?” she asks.

They both shake their heads.

“I see.”

She moves to the windowsill and rests her head against the glass, allowing time for Mai and Ty Lee to kneel before the shrine. Their prayers are quick and short, and it doesn’t take long before Ty Lee erupts into tears again.

Azula sits by the window, glancing between her mother and her friends while biting her thumb. Noticing Zuko’s stare, she sighs.

“Would they have loved me this much if I were alive?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter this time, but we'll be getting into the meat of the story real soon. Think of this as a filler chapter.
> 
> Thank you everyone who left a comment!! I love you all <33


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